


Teenage Dreams

by orderlychaos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awesome mothers, Boys In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Neighbors, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 03:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1883292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson is a high school senior, and he has his whole life planned out.  Now only if he could get over the stupid crush he has on his friend, the popular and gorgeous Clint Barton, because Phil is pretty sure he doesn't have a hope.</p>
<p>The path to love when you're a teenager isn't easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teenage Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lyner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyner/gifts).



> Originally, this was a prompt given to me a loooooooooooooooooong time ago. So, sorry, but I FINALLY FILLED IT. I hope you still enjoy reading it, Henry <3
> 
> Thanks to Sid and Ami, who helped me bounce ideas and come up with a plot for this. And to Ral and Fin, who helped with the beginning. Thank you, all <3
> 
> Also, many, many thanks to Ralkana for reading this over and betaing it for me! <3 Any mistakes left in this are mine.

Hunching his shoulders, Phil Coulson checked his watch as he stepped off his front porch.  It was still really early, so he’d probably be okay.  Even so, he couldn’t stop his furtive glance next door as his hugged his favourite notebook to his chest and hurried his steps down the street.  Phil knew his behaviour was ridiculous - he’d never become a foreign correspondent if he spent his life avoiding people - but Phil still didn't want to run into his next door neighbour.  Clint Barton was only a year younger than Phil, but people were already talking about how he was going to do amazing things.  As captain of the archery team, Clint had never lost a competition, and there were whispers about the Olympic team, despite the fact that Clint was only just seventeen.  Clint was also popular, and he hung out with the coolest kids at SHIELD High, which made total sense, because Clint was smart, funny, and gorgeous.

And Phil… wasn't.

The whole thing was made worse by the fact that Phil had seen Clint kissing Natasha Romanoff on the bleachers last week, which was why Phil was avoiding him in the first place.  Natasha was beautiful and mysterious, and a little scary, and Phil couldn’t begrudge Clint for liking her.  If Phil actually liked girls that way, he’d probably have a crush on Natasha too.  It didn’t make it hurt any less to see Clint kissing someone else, but Phil was still happy for them.  They made a stunning couple, and as soon as Phil could wrap his heart around the idea of Clint being very firmly unavailable, he’d make sure he told Clint that too.  Phil huffed at himself.  He and Clint were friends, and he wasn’t going to screw that up by being stupid.  He only had to get through one more year of high school, and then college would be different.  There’d be plenty of guys there, and maybe some of them would even want to sleep with Phil.

Blowing out a sigh, Phil rolled his eyes at himself.  He was being totally stupid.  He knew his own strengths - he was smart and organized, and even had a few muscles since his Mom had finally let him start learning jiu jitsu over the summer.  Phil worked hard for what he had, never complaining about the long hours he worked at the grocery store to help his Mom pay for things, or still needing to study enough so his grades didn’t slip and he could get into a good college.  It hadn’t been easy, but Phil had a plan for his life, and he didn’t need validation from anyone.  

Not even gorgeous archers that Phil had ridiculous crushes on.  Unfortunately, no matter how many times Phil told himself to get over his obviously unrequited feelings, he couldn’t do it.  Phil would be fine, and then Clint would flash that ridiculously bright smile, or say something sarcastic about Mr Reed the science teacher just to cheer Phil up, and Phil would be reduced to a blushing, stammering mess of feelings.  And that didn’t even count the times Phil caught Clint training with his shirt off, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the target, the muscles of his arms straining as the sunlight glinted off his blond hair.

Thankfully, before he could brood too much, Phil made it to the Starbucks close to school.  Inside, already sitting at a table and typing something on her phone, was Pepper Potts.  She glanced up with a smile a second later, waving in greeting, and Phil smiled back.  Pushing all thoughts of Clint Barton aside, Phil headed inside, because if he had to get up stupidly early to avoid Clint like a fourteen year old, he might as well get a head start on his economics homework.  Maybe then Phil wouldn’t quite feel so bad about the whole thing.

~*~

Clint scrubbed a hand through his hair as he ducked into the school library.  The librarian was already glaring at him, which _so_ wasn’t helping.  It had been inevitable, really, that he’d go and fuck up his friendship with Phil, but Clint still couldn’t figure out what exactly it was that he’d done.  If he didn’t fear Natasha’s wrath more than his upcoming embarrassment, he might have turned around and gone back outside.  Of course, then Bucky would also laugh at him - and Natasha’s teasing was enough, thanks.  It wasn’t like he didn’t _know_ Phil Coulson was completely out of his league, and that his stupid crush was doomed to failure.  Clint just couldn’t help it.  Phil was smart, and he had this _look_ that was wicked hot and always made the freshmen stammer with fear.  He also had the prettiest blue eyes Clint had ever seen.  Somehow, Phil was also Clint’s friend, and Clint wasn’t willing to give up Phil’s calm, steady friendship for feelings that Phil could never return.  Of course, none of that helped solve Clint’s current problem.

As usual, Phil was tucked up in his favourite corner of the library, surrounded by homework like the unrepentant nerd he was (and which Clint didn’t find adorable in the slightest).  Clint had absolutely no doubt that Phil would be an amazing journalist one day.  But the more Clint watched Phil, the more he could see how tired Phil looked, and the slump of Phil’s shoulders, like Phil was trying really hard not to be sad about something.  Clint’s heart clenched in his chest, his mind automatically conjuring all the things that could be wrong.  He hoped it wasn’t anything to do with Mrs Coulson.  Oh, God, what about Phil’s college applications?

Telling himself to stop being a coward, Clint walked over to Phil’s corner.  “Hey, Phil,” he greeted when he was close enough, injecting as much cheerfulness into his voice as he could.

For a second, he could have sworn Phil’s shoulders tensed, and then the other boy lifted his head with a smile.  Clint was hit full force with the sight of Phil in his black, thick-framed glasses, and tried not to swallow his tongue.  

“Hello, Clint,” Phil said, his smile more tentative than normal.

Now Clint was more convinced than ever that something was wrong.  He sprawled across the empty chair next to Phil, and tried to look as unconcerned as possible.  “So, I haven’t seen you around lately.  Is everything okay?”

If anything, Phil tensed even further.  “I’m fine,” Phil said softly.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Clint shrugged, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt.  “I don’t know,” he muttered.  “I just haven’t seen you at practice and stuff.”  He glanced up.  “Your mom’s okay, right?  And it’s nothing to do with your college applications?”

Flushing slightly, Phil ducked his head.  “No, it’s not that,” he said, his blue eyes sincere when he looked up again.  “Promise.”

“Okay, cool,” Clint replied.  Then he took a deep breath.  “You know you can talk to me if you need to?” he blurted.  “About anything?”

Phil looked a little stunned at that.  Clint really hoped that whatever the problem was, it wasn’t a girl.  He already knew he’d listen anyway, but hearing Phil gush about a girl would suck.  When it became obvious that Phil wasn’t going to tell Clint what was going on, Clint forced a smile.  

“Guess I should stop annoying you, huh?” he said.

“You’re not annoying,” Phil said hurriedly.

Clint arched an eyebrow and grinned, because Phil was one of the first people to complain about Clint’s interruptions, even as he set everything aside so he could focus on Clint.  Was it really any wonder Clint was so gone on the guy?  “You know I mean it, right?” Clint said, his smile fading into something more serious.  “Whenever you need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

“Thank you,” Phil whispered, not quite meeting Clint's eyes.

Clint nodded and stood.  Phil seemed more like himself when he waved goodbye, but Clint was still worried something serious was going on, and Clint was more determined than ever to figure out what it was, so he could fix it.

~*~

“Mom?” Phil called out as he walked in the front door.  He was earlier than usual after his Science Club meeting, because he hadn’t gone with Maria and Jasper to the diner like he normally did.  He’d wanted to catch his mother before she left for her shift at the hospital.

“I’m in here, sweetheart,” his mother called from the kitchen.

Kicking off his shoes, Phil left his bag by the door and followed the warm smell of his mother’s cooking.  “Do you have a minute?” he asked, hesitating in the doorway.

Elizabeth Coulson immediately turned down the heat underneath the spaghetti sauce and turned towards him.  

“For you, Phil, always.  You know that,” she chided gently.  Moving to the kettle, Phil watched her flip it on, before getting the teapot from the cupboard to her right.  It had always been a tradition of theirs to share a warm pot of tea as they talked, and Phil’s eyes prickled as he sat down at the kitchen table.  He was so lucky to have his mother.

When she’d finished with the tea, Elizabeth set the pot and mugs down in the center of the table and took a seat opposite Phil.  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked.

Phil reached out to pour the tea to give his hands something to do.  “I think I’m in love,” he said softly.

For a moment, a warm smile covered his mother’s face.  “Oh, Phil, that’s wonderful,” she said.  Then her smile faded.  “Isn’t it?”

“I’m pretty sure he likes someone else,” Phil said, grateful he’d already come out to his mother and that she hadn’t cared anyway.  In fact, she’d known before Phil had.  “I’ve tried getting over it,” he continued, his eyes firmly on his mug.  “I just can’t seem to.  He makes me feel like I can take on the world when he smiles at me, and he always knows how to make me feel better…”  He shrugged, before taking a deep breath and looking up.  “Is that kind of how Dad made you feel?”

It had been two years since two somber men in dress uniform had appeared on the doorstep to tell them Henry Coulson wasn’t coming home, but Phil and his mother still missed him as much as they always had.  Phil knew it hurt his mother to talk about his Dad too much, but she tried anyway, for him.  When his mother glanced away, Phil let her have a moment, taking the time to push down the dull throb of grief in his own chest.  

“Your Dad made me feel a great many things,” Elizabeth said finally.  “Some of it was because I loved him, and some of it was because he was my friend.”  Smiling softly, she sipped her tea.  “This boy… does he have a name?”

Phil swallowed.  “It’s Clint,” he admitted.

Nodding, his mother hid another smile with her mug, but Phil could still see the humour dancing in her eyes.  He huffed in reply.  Then he looked down at the table again.  

“I thought it was just a crush, because you know… he’s smart and funny and really hot…” he said.  “But the feelings won’t go away, Mom.  And when I saw him kissing Natasha last week, I kind of wanted to cry.  That’s love, right?”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said.  “Only you can answer that, Phil.”

Phil blew out a sigh.  “Great,” he grumbled.

His mother laughed softly.  “Can I tell you something I do know?”

“ _Please_ ,” Phil replied, hoping to find an answer to the confusing mess of feelings Clint always invoked in him.

“You need to talk to Clint,” his mother replied, and Phil had the urge to bury his face in his arms.  His mother smiled at him again when he groaned.  “I know, I know.  But you should, Phil.  You might just find that Clint kissing Natasha isn’t what you think it is.”

Narrowing his eyes, Phil frowned at his mother.  “What do you mean?”

Elizabeth’s answering smile was very mysterious.  “Trust me, Phillip.  I’m your mother,” she said.  “Now, I have to finish cooking the spaghetti, or I’m going to be late for work.”

She ruffled his hair as she moved back to the stove, and Phil sighed.  He really didn’t want to talk to Clint about this, but his mother was right.  He needed to, if only so that he could finally put these stupid feelings behind him.

~*~

Straightening his shoulders, Phil told himself to stop delaying the inevitable.  He already knew Clint was home, because it was Saturday, and late enough that archery practice was over.  Plus, Phil had seen Clint come home - alone - before he’d walked over.  Taking another deep breath, he raised his hand to knock, only to have the door open before he could.  Peggy Jones smiled at him from the doorway, but her warm brown eyes were worried.  “Is everything all right, Phillip?” she asked, her British accent familiar after all the years of living next door to her.

Phil’s heart was thundering, but he ignored it as best as he could.  “Yes, thanks, Mrs Jones,” he replied.  “Is Clint home?”

“He is,” Clint’s adoptive mother said as she stepped back with a welcoming smile.  “Why don’t you come in?”

As Phil stepped nervously inside, Peggy turned to call up the stairs.  “Clinton, Phillip is here to see you.”

There were a few muffled thuds, and then Clint’s grinning face appeared at the top of the stairs.  “Phil,” he said brightly.  “Come on up, man.”

“Door stays open,” Peggy said as Phil headed upstairs, and Phil felt his face flush scarlet.

“Mom!” Clint protested, his ears turning pink as Peggy chuckled.

Phil just ducked his head and followed Clint back to his room.  “Ah, sorry,” Clint said, pausing in the doorway.  Strangely, Clint’s fingers were playing with the hem of his t-shirt, like he was unsure about something.  “I would have cleaned up and shit if I knew you were coming over.”

“It’s cool,” Phil replied, stepping hesitantly into Clint’s room.

Despite the fact that they were friends, Phil didn’t think he’d ever seen Clint’s bedroom.  Not properly, anyway.  It was pretty normal.  There were posters on the walls, half of them archers, and clothes were sort of tossed around, Clint’s laptop sitting on a desk piled high with textbooks.  The only things that made it any different from Phil’s own bedroom were the pictures on the posters, the bow case by the door, and the archery trophies on the shelf.

“So what’s up?” Clint asked, throwing himself down on his bed.  Phil yanked his thoughts back before they could go anywhere embarrassing.

“I, uh… wanted to talk to you,” Phil told him, not sure what to do with himself.  He didn’t think sitting on the bed would actually help him spit out what he needed to say, and taking the desk chair seemed wrong somehow.  Phil didn’t know how other people did this.

“Oh!” Clint sat up, clutching a pillow to his chest and looking at Phil with wide, impossibly-coloured eyes.  “Is this about the thing that’s been bothering you?”

Phil nodded, glancing down at his twisting fingers.  He heard Clint scramble off the bed, but couldn’t bring himself to raise his head.  “Is it bad?” Clint asked, his voice almost a whisper and close enough to touch.

Phil lifted his eyes to find Clint barely a few steps away, still holding the pillow tightly.  “Is Natasha your girlfriend now?” Phil blurted, and then cursed himself and closed his eyes.  He wasn’t _twelve_ , for fuck’s sake.

“What?” Clint said, sounding confused.

When Phil forced himself to open his eyes again, Clint had an adorable furrow between his eyes and his nose was all scrunched up.  “I saw you kissing her on the bleachers last week,” Phil said quietly.

“Oh, _that_ ,” Clint said with a snort and an eyeroll.  “Bucky bet Steve twenty bucks that Natasha would kill anyone who tried to kiss her, so because Steve has this _giant_ crush on Bucky, and Steve and I are pretty much the only people Natasha wouldn’t kill for kissing her, Steve said he’d give me half if I did it.  Not that Natasha let either of us keep the money when she found out.”  He shrugged, then grinned.  “We should have made Sam do it.”

Phil tried to absorb the information as his world tilted on its axis _again_ , with the knowledge that Clint wasn’t actually in love with Natasha after all.  He might have been silent for too long, because Clint glanced up with wide eyes.  “Shit, you don’t have a crush on Natasha, do you?” he asked.  Then he seemed to realize how that sounded.  “Not that there’s anything wrong with Natasha.  She’s awesome, and totally hot.  She’s just also kind of dating this scary older guy right now, who has a terrifying appreciation for leather, and this really badass trenchcoat…”

Phil stopped listening to the words when he noticed that Clint was fidgeting with the edge of the pillowcase and looking everywhere but at Phil.  Somewhere deep in his chest, a spark of hope began to burn.  “Natasha’s not the one I have a crush on,” Phil admitted, interrupting Clint mid-sentence.

The smile Clint flashed him was full of relief, before his whole expression dimmed.  “It’s not Steve, is it?  Because I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned the massive crush he has on Bucky, right?”

His heart was pounding so hard he was convinced Clint could hear it, and Phil rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans.  He _really_ wanted to reach out and touch Clint, but he had to get the words out first.  “It’s not Steve,” he said.  “I’m pretty sure it’s not just a crush, either.”  Phil took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “I think I’m in love.”

“Oh.”  Clint sat down on the edge of the bed again with a thump.  For a single, heartbreaking second, an expression of pure anguish slid through Clint’s eyes, before he looked up with a forced and brittle smile.  “Who’s the lucky person?”

Watching Clint hold himself so still, like he might shatter if he moved, Phil wondered why he’d never seen it before.  Maybe that’s what his Mom had been talking about.  It made it easier to admit what he’d come here to confess.  “The person I’m in love with is you, Clint,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

If Phil had thought Clint was still before, now he was practically frozen.  Slowly, Clint moved the pillow out of his lap, something so raw and vulnerable in the depths of his eyes that it made Phil’s chest ache.  “Me?”

Phil nodded.  “You,” he said firmly.  “That’s why I’ve been avoiding you, because it kind of killed me when I thought Natasha was your girlfriend…”

“Oh my God,” Clint breathed, surging to his feet.  Phil’s brain shorted out at the first press of Clint’s lips to his.  It didn’t matter that the kiss was kind of clumsy, not that Phil had much to compare it to, or that Phil had absolutely no idea what to do with his hands.  Kissing Clint surpassed everything Phil had ever imagined, and he never wanted to stop.  Then Phil felt Clint smile against his mouth, and strong arms were sliding around his waist, and suddenly things were a whole lot _better_.  Somehow Phil’s hand had settled on Clint’s bicep, his other hand tangling in Clint’s hair, and Clint’s warm, solid weight was pressed against his chest.  Phil decided this was the most perfect moment in his entire life to date.

“You really like me?” Clint whispered when he pulled back again.  Clint’s cheeks were flushed, and the muscles under Phil’s palm were _flexing_ , so Phil forgave himself for needing a second to understand English again.

“You’re amazing, Clint,” he said.  “I’ve never met anyone like you.  You’re smart and talented and gorgeous…”

Clint groaned, and then he was kissing Phil again.  Phil didn’t know what he’d done to make this happen, but he was very, very glad it had.  He was just getting up the courage to slide his hand underneath Clint’s t-shirt, and then there was a knock on the half-open door behind him.  “Boys, would you like…” Peggy said, before she stopped.

Phil and Clint sprang apart guiltily.  Phil was pretty sure his blush could be seen from space, but he met Peggy’s gaze anyway.  Then he blinked, because he hadn’t expected her to be silently laughing.  

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” she said, before sending Clint a pointed look.  “Pants stay _on_ ,” she warned.

Groaning with embarrassment, Clint shuffled forward to drop his head into the spot between Phil’s shoulder and neck.  With Clint so warm and real against him, Phil couldn’t fight the urge to run a soothing hand down Clint’s back.  Truthfully, he didn’t want to.  Now that he had the chance, not touching Clint was unthinkable.  Peggy sent him a wink, retreated, and pulled the door mostly shut behind her.  Phil wasn’t sure what to make of that.  

“So, Mom killed the mood to make out with me, right?” Clint asked a little while later, one of his strong arms curled tightly around Phil’s waist and his hand fisted in Phil’s t-shirt.

Phil shrugged slightly.  “I’m always in the mood to kiss you,” he replied.

“Yeah?” Clint said, raising his head with a mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” Phil agreed, leaning forward to demonstrate.  He grinned when he pulled back a long few minutes later.  “Are you doing anything later?”

“I don’t think so?” Clint said, looking a little dazed.

Phil’s smile widened.  “Come with me to the diner, then.  I’ll buy you pancakes.  You know, like a date.”

“ _Like_ a date?” Clint echoed, his grin matching Phil’s.

Rolling his eyes, Phil refused to blush _again_.  “Yes.  A date.”

“Okay,” Clint said happily, reaching down to tangle their fingers together.  “A date.”

~*~

_Twenty years later_

Clint smiled as he heard familiar footsteps pad into the hotel room behind him as the door clicked shut.  He didn’t move from where he was half-hidden in the curtains beside the window, but he didn’t have to.  Phil knew where he was.  Outside, people were finally starting to clean up the destruction caused by two weeks of fighting in the streets.  Clint was watching most of the clean-up from behind his camera, occasionally snapping a photograph, but he didn’t think these photos were destined for anything other than his personal album.  He and Phil had missed most of the fighting because they’d been covering the kidnapping of a movie star in the Andes for the last week.  

Thankfully, they had managed to get back to Bogota just in time for Clint to photograph the protesters draping a flaming banner over the statue of Simon Bolivar in Bolivar Square.  Clint had a good feeling about that photo.  It might even win him another award, which Phil would insist on framing and hanging on the wall of the New York apartment they barely lived in.

“So what did Fury have to say?” Clint asked, mentioning their old friend and the current managing editor of the New York Times, who Phil had gone downstairs to call.

“He’s running the story and he loves your photo,” Phil replied.  “Also, Natasha says if we’re not back in the States for her birthday, she’s going to skin us both.”

Clint turned around with a grin, carefully setting his camera down on the nearby table.  “Guess we can’t chase after that story in Myanmar, then,” he said a little wistfully.

Phil snorted, looking amused, and Clint traced his husband’s familiar features with his eyes.  It had been a long time since that day in high school when they’d first started dating, but Clint would never regret a second of it.  Phil might be a little worn around the edges these days, with permanent crinkles next to his eyes and slightly less hair, but to Clint, he was just as handsome as ever.

“Well,” Phil said with a mischievous half-smile.  “Natasha’s birthday isn’t actually for a month, and Melinda sent me an email yesterday.  Apparently, she’s on the ground in the Hengduan Mountains, and she has a lead for us.”

Clint raised his eyebrows.  Melinda May was infamous for her ability to find news stories before anyone else knew what was going on.  “Well, if Mel’s got a lead…” Clint said, knowing there was a large chance Natasha was going to murder him in the near future.

“Good,” Phil said.  “Because I booked us both plane tickets to Myanmar when I was downstairs.”

Laughing, Clint leaned forward to give his husband a fierce kiss.  “Fuck, I love you,” he said.

Phil smiled.  “I love you, too.”

  
Fin.


End file.
